Page 20 of The Psychopaths

He smirks. Fuck, why does that look so sexy on him? “Pretty sure you’re only supposed to be having water.”

I glare now. “Pretty sure you have better things to do than monitor what I’m drinking. You haven’t spoken to me in forever and the first thing out of your mouth is this?”

“Dance with me,” he demands, avoiding my question altogether.

My body responds before my brain processes the command.Wait.

I open my mouth to object but he’s moving us toward the dance floor, his hand guiding me with confidence. The type of confidence I’ve never seen before. The hesitation, the careful distance he usually maintains—it’s gone. Did he fall and hit his head? Did he forget all the things he said the last time we were alone together, when I was eighteen? There’s no other logical reasoning for his change.

“I didn’t think you danced?” I ask, my voice barely audible above the music. It’s a lame response but I’m grasping at anything to keep him here, keep his hands on me.

He pulls me closer than propriety allows, close enough that I can feel the steady beat of his healthy heart against my hands. “Oh, there are many things you don’t know about me, Lilian.”

We move in perfect synchronization, him guiding me with a fluid grace. I’ve never seen Aries dance before. I didn’t even know he could dance

“You’re staring,” he says, amusement coating his voice.

I know I am, but I can’t help it.

I’m cataloging differences between who he is today, and who he wasthatnight.

A flash of his lips on my skin, his hands perfectly molded around me. It only sets fire to the embers he’s stoked since he grabbed my waist.

This is what you want Lilian. What you’ve waited years for. His attention, his touch, his desire.If that’s true then why am I so confused by it?

My body wants to give in, wants me to accept his touch, to react, but something about it feels wrong. His thumb traces circles against my lower back, making it difficult for me to concentrate. I notice there are calluses on his palm against mine that shouldn’t be there.

What has he been up to?

“Sorry,” I whisper, trying to match his confidence. “I’m surprised, that’s all. I didn’t expect you to be here; nor did I expect you to talk to me. Even if Mother convinces you to come to one of these things, you usually ignore me.”

Panic flashes in his hazel eyes, but it vanishes so quickly I think I might have imagined it.

“Familial obligations, remember?” His hand slides lower, entering dangerous territory for siblings, even step ones. “As for talking to you, I have to keep up appearances, right?”

Other couples give us space, clearing the dance floor like they can sense the predatory energy radiating off him. I feel thesudden shift in the air, and I know my mother’s watching. I can feel her gaze burning into my skin, following each step and twirl. I catch a glimpse of her expression, both shocked and concerned, when we turn again.

“I guess, but don’t you think this gives the wrong vibe? I mean, we’re siblings, Aries. I don’t want to give anyone the wrong idea,” I explain, studying his face a little harder.

My tone is deliberately clipped and cold when I toss the same words he gave me that very night back at him. It’s strange how his features twist with confusion.

Did he forget that night?

It’s possible. I’m sure it was a much bigger event for me than for him.

I stare at him, unable to look away. He looks like Aries—my Aries—except he’s not the same. There’s a darkness to him that wasn’t there before.

What have you been up to?

As if he can hear my thoughts, he spins me abruptly before pulling me back against his chest. The impact makes me gasp, and I clutch onto his tuxedo lapel, afraid I might fall.

His lips brush my ear as he whispers, “Let them get the wrong idea. Who cares what they think anyway? Only you and I know the truth, and that’s all that matters.”

An involuntary shiver ripples through me as his thumb presses against my pulse point—right where my heart’s irregularity is most obvious. This is a different behavior than I’m used to. In the past, he never drew attention to mycondition,at least not so deliberately. He’s always been so careful, borderline clinical, in his physical interactions with me, as if standing too closely or speaking too loudly might send me over the edge.

Eight years of watching Aries from the shadows has made me an expert in his mannerisms. The way he unconsciously touches his left cuff link when uncomfortable. The slight furrow betweenhis brows when he’s thinking. The precise distance he maintains between us—always exactly one step too far for intimacy.

This man—-though he is Aries—isn’t him at the same time. He’s a perfect mirror image with all the details reversed, and there is no way to explain it. It feels like I don’t know him. Like he’s a different person.

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